


Lies and the Truth

by RuneStarArrow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Sam Winchester, First Kiss, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Sam Ships It, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sastiel Brotp, Soulmates, mostly canon verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9172372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuneStarArrow/pseuds/RuneStarArrow
Summary: Dean Winchester knew there was something a little off about his relationship with the angel Castiel. For one thing, he could see his wings. At first he had thought it was a trick, then that it was normal, but, after mentioning it to both Sam and Bobby in passing and receiving rather odd looks for his troubles, he had to conclude that something was probably very wrong. But, being Dean Winchester, he decided it was better for all of this to stew for years and drive him crazy than to actually ask Castiel about it.In which Dean doesn't realise that he's soulmates with Castiel until Sam helpfully points it out to him, and he doesn't know how to deal with it when he does find out, especially having dealt with John Winchester's wonderful attitude to parental support growing up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically canon verse, except with soulmates. Set somewhere in season 12, but with no Mary. Enjoy the Destiel!

Sometimes Castiel remembered the fires of Hell. He remembered how they had looked, and how the shadows of his brothers and sisters had flown against the jagged rocks and crevices of the Pit. He remembered the light, the searing light, of so many flames, so many angels, and how it was drowned out by the black smoke of the demons that leapt to block their path.

 

But the thing that Castiel remembered the most vividly was the brightest light in that gloomy place. He remembered how he, angel blade in hand, had rounded a corner in one of the darkest areas, and had been suddenly blinded. A soul, brighter than any he had ever seen, leapt and danced and screamed. It had reached out towards him, tendrils swirling to meet him as if drawn towards him by gravity, or magnets, or perhaps something a little more inexplicable.

 

The soul, Castiel remembered, was a bright, brilliant green. For some reason he had never been able to explain, this particular soul had drawn him in like nothing else ever had; his brothers and sisters, his mission, his human friends, Sam, Kevin, Charlie, Bobby, nothing even came close to the feelings that this particular soul evoked.

 

This soul, when Castiel had put it back together again, became a man like no other. God’s Righteous Man, the Archangel Michael’s True Vessel, the man who made one of God’s most devoted angels fall from grace. In Castiel’s eyes, this man was the most extraordinary being on Earth and beyond.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean Winchester knew there was something a little off about his relationship with the angel Castiel. For one thing, he could see his wings. At first he had thought it was a trick, then that it was normal, but, after mentioning it to both Sam and Bobby in passing and receiving rather odd looks for his troubles, he had to conclude that something was probably very wrong. But, being Dean Winchester, he decided it was better for all of this to stew for years and drive him crazy than to actually ask Castiel about it.

 

Besides, being able to see Castiel’s wings wasn’t exactly a hardship. When he had them spread, the wingspan was around twelve feet, tiny feathers no longer than Dean’s little finger gradually turning into feathers as long as his whole arm. They were a dark navy blue, turning almost black or purple in areas, and they shimmered when they caught the light like water on a lake. They had an otherworldly sense to them, and Dean still sometimes freaked out when he saw Sam standing next to Cas with a wing through his chest.

 

Reading Cas’ emotions through the movements of his wings started to become easier to Dean than reading the emotions on his face. He knew how they would arch above his head when he felt threatened, he knew how they curved around Sam and Dean in fights, deflecting bullets before either of the hunters had even noticed they had been fired. He knew how they would ruffle when he was pleased, and how they would start to beat slightly if he was agitated. And, of course, _of course_ , it was Dean’s nerdy younger brother that finally forced him to do something about it after years and years of ignoring his feelings.

 

* * *

 

 

“Dean!” Sam shouted down the bunker hallway one lazy afternoon. Dean was out in the hallway in three seconds flat, trusty gun raised to shoot any unexpected intruders. “Look at this!” Sam said cheerfully, waving a large, leather-bound book in Dean’s face, seemingly unperturbed by the gun in his face. He turned and practically skipped down the hallway, finally coming to a stop in the library, putting the book down with a thud, sending up puffs of dust.

 

“Dude, I was busy!” Dean grunted unhappily.

 

“Busty Asian Beauties can wait, Dean. Did you know that Cas has actual _wings_?” Sam said, practically vibrating with excitement.

 

“Uh, yeah, Sammy. Remember the kick-ass shadows on the walls wh-why are you waving that book in my face? I don’t speak Latin!”

 

“Sorry. I’ve been researching, and I found this really interesting bit about wings. What it basically says, is that angels have actual, corporeal wings, but they can only be seen by a select few people. Now I remember ages ago, you said that you could actually see them, and I’ve been trying to find an explanation for that in the Men of Letters archives, and I finally have!” Sam was grinning up at Dean, so Dean resisted the urge to turn around and storm out of the room, instead just gritting his teeth and sitting down on one of the nearby chairs.

 

“So, the list goes as follows: God, the Archangels, other angels and, I quote: _“The wings of an angel or archangel can be seen, in rare cases, by a human soul so entwined with the angel’s own grace that the two could almost be considered one; the angel’s soul-mate, if you will.”_. What do you say to that, Dean?” Sam said, a shit-eating grin on his face. Dean stared between his annoying little brother and the ancient leather-bound book with an expression of disbelief and faint horror on his face.

 

“I-I, wait- Cas, me… soulmates? W-What? Cas doesn’t even have a soul! You’re making that up, there’s no way… me, him, it wouldn’t, don’t deserve, he’s too good for...” Dean stuttered, going redder in the face with each passing second. Sam shook his head exasperatedly, going to the side-table and pouring Dean a glass of whiskey. Dean grasped it like a lifeline and drank it in one gulp holding the glass out for another.

 

“Come on Dean. I’m not stupid and neither are you, I’ve known there was something you weren’t telling me since, well, Purgatory! Even before that! Come on, Dean. ‘Profound bond’? You’re in love with him, just admit it! He’s your bloody soulmate for God’s sake, he’s died for you so many times, and I know you hate chick-flick moments, but, please, for the love of Chuck, both of you deserve something good in your lives, _I_ deserve the two people I love most in the world to be happy!” Sam had started breathing rapidly around halfway through his little speech, tears building in the corners of his eyes and spilling out down his cheeks. “Please, Dean. You both deserve to be happy, you both love each other, what’s the problem?” Dean could see the genuine question and concern in his brother’s eyes. Dean collapsed in the chair across from Sam, grabbed the whiskey bottle, and sighed heavily.

 

“Cas deserves better than me, Sam. He-he’s such a brilliant person, he’s selfless, he’s brave, he’s kind… he deserves a white-picket fence, a good, stable family, anything he wants in the entire world. He shouldn’t have to settle for some no-good hunter with a mountain of daddy issues, no experience in being in a stable, happy relationship, no way to give him anything aside from a broken heart or broken wings… he deserves the world, and I can’t give it to him, Sam! I can’t give him anything!” Sam looked over at Dean, who was staring at his empty whiskey glass as if it held the secrets of the universe. He leant over and gently took it away from him, laying his hand on Dean’s flannel-covered arm.

 

“That’s not the whole of it, though, is it?” Sam, murmured. “There’s something else. Something to do with Dad. You don’t have to hide the truth from me, Dean. I can handle it.” Dean looked up, and, seeing the determination in Sam’s eyes, sighed.

 

“Fine. But you won’t like it.” Dean sighed. “Do you remember when he’d get drunk sometimes, and I mean, drunker than usual?” At Sam’s nod, Dean continued. “He’d start ranting about anything and everything, usually something about demons or vampires or things he claimed ‘should be exterminated from the planet’, and I remember one night, when I was around 16, he started ranting about this gay couple he’d seen in a bar the previous night.”

 

“Oh, Dean…” Sam whispered. Dean swallowed, took a deep breath and continued, studiously avoiding Sam’s eyes. “I just remember him looking me dead in the eyes and telling me “Son, if you ever turn into one of those nasty faggots, I won’t hesitate to shoot your head off your shoulders.” and then passing out in a pool of his own vomit. I don’t think he remembered it afterwards, but it’s stayed with me since, and I can’t get his voice out of my head whenever I look at Cas, or any reasonably attractive male, even if I want- nevermind. I don’t know how to get him out of my head, Sam!” Dean looked up with wide, panic-stricken eyes.

 

“Dean-” Sam started to say, but he was interrupted by the creaking of the bunker door. The boys looked up in surprise - visitors were a rarity in the Winchester household - only to see a familiar tan trench coat clad angel descending the stairs. Dean turned slightly green and started coughing violently. Cas tilted his head to the side in confusion.

 

“Hello Dean, Sam. Are you unwell, Dean? Do you wish for me to heal you?” he said, stepping down the stairs. Dean’s eyes widened comically, and Sam absently wondered if Chuck would give him some popcorn for such a good show.

 

“N-no, no, Cas, I’m f-fine. How are you?” Dean said, voice squeaking slightly at the end of his sentence. A bowl of popcorn appeared on Sam’s lap.

 

“I am well, Dean. I was in the area, and thought I should drop in to check on the both of you.” Cas said, blue eyes squinting and his head still tilted in confusion. Dean abruptly stood up, chair clattering to the floor behind him. “Dean? What’s wrong?” Cas asked, hand reaching out to grab Dean’s arm as Dean attempted to walk past him to get to the rest of the bunker.

 

“Nothing’s wrong, Cas. I’ve just got to- I’ve just got to do something. Somewhere. That’s not here.” he said, nodding decisively. He moved forward a step, turned slightly on his heel, and seemed to decide upon something very suddenly. “Can you- can you… move?” he asked, heart beating out of his chest. Cas’ head tilted even further.

 

“I am not in your way, Dean.” he said, voice dripping with confusion. Dean took another deep breath, and opened his eyes, looking directly at Castiel. Sam ate some of his popcorn.

 

“I meant your wings.” Dean said. Cas’ mouth dropped open, and his hand dropped Dean’s arm. He seemed to struggle for air for a few moments.

 

“W-what did you just say?” Cas asked breathlessly.

 

“You know what I said.” Dean whispered softly. “You don’t know what that means, Dean! You can’t just lie to me like that, you can’t just make me-no, no, don’t you dare, Dean Winchester!” Castiel yelled, voice broken and whirling out of Dean’s reach. Dean reached out a hand to grab him again, missed, and watched as Cas half ran out of the door, slamming it behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

Three hours and twenty phone calls later, Dean had finished half the whiskey bottle, Sam had completely finished his popcorn (which didn’t taste half as good without actually watching anything exciting) and Castiel was nowhere to be found. Apparently, he had clued in about Dean having turned the GPS on his phone on, and had turned it off, meaning that they couldn’t track him, and he could have zapped off anywhere on the planet or beyond for all they knew. They had tried praying, Dean’s prayers getting progressively more incoherent and panicked as time went on.

 

Dean was inches away from throwing things and screaming when the door creaked open again. He was up the stairs in seconds, grabbing Castiel’s trenchcoat and pulling him forward to press his lips against Cas’ before he’d even realised that he’d started moving. Dean’s head was swimming, his entire body on fire and sparks travelling up and down his arms. Having his lips on Castiel’s felt so _right_ , so unbelievably good he wondered why he had never done this before. Suddenly, he realised that Cas was unmoving against him, and he pulled back abruptly, breathless and red, stammering out an apology.

 

“C-cas, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean, I- sorry I didn’t mean to- can we forget this ever happened?” Dean said in a rush, brain still not entirely connecting to his mouth. Cas was staring at him in shock, seemingly frozen. Unbearingly slowly, Cas brought a hand up and traced his lips. The corners of his mouth turned up in a soft smile, before he was outright grinning.

 

“You just kissed me.” Cas said, still grinning, looking up at Dean. Dean felt a shock run through him.

 

“Er… yes?” he said, still hoping that the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

 

“I would like you to do that again, Dean.” Cas said firmly, blue eyes locked on Dean’s green ones. Dean suddenly seemed to lose all control over his lungs, as the air was sucked out of him.

 

“You’d like me to what?” he asked, slowly and quietly. Cas gave him a look of exasperation, and shook his head.

 

“I said, I want you to kiss me again, Dean.” Cas said, slowly, bringing his hands up to cup Dean’s cheeks tenderly. “Or, alternatively, I could always kiss you.” he said, millimetres away from Dean.

 

Cas inched forward slowly, until they were kissing again. This kiss was much better than their first, as it contained two active participants this time. Both men could feel the fireworks, cheesy as it may sound, as Dean’s soul and Castiel’s grace twined even closer together than they already had been. Their lips moved together slowly, sweetly, each trying their hardest to memorize the other, to get to know them more than they already did, to just get closer to each other. Cas’ hands remained on Dean’s cheeks, and Dean’s arms wrapped around Cas, bringing him closer to his chest, both just drinking each other up and savouring the moment.

 

“Oh my God, guys, really? I do not need to see you making out with each other!” Sam’s voice penetrated their safe little bubble, coloured with fake disgust and thinly veiled happiness. They quickly jumped apart from each other, smiling sheepishly. Dean pressed a quick kiss to Cas’ temple, and Cas grinned happily up at him. Sam tried to hide his excited grin and failed miserably.

 

“Sorry Sammy.” Dean said, not sounding sorry at all. Sam just laughed, and shook his head exasperatedly.

 

“Jerk.”

 

“Bitch.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Kudos and comments are much appreciated!


End file.
